The Tangle Box

The Gnomes must have tunneled all the way under the lake, a feat that Abernathy could not comprehend, given its well-known depth. He envisioned the earth collapsing on top of him; he imagined the lake waters pouring in. The crawl went on endlessly, and at more than one point he thought that he had reached the limit of his endurance. But he refused to quit.

When he emerged once more into the light of moons and stars within a clump of bushes behind the siege lines, there to brush dirt and insects away and to breathe anew and with much gratitude a cool night air which smelled and tasted sweeter than anything in recent memory, he vowed that whatever happened from here on out, he was not under any circumstances going back into that tunnel.

His composure regained, he followed the G’home Gnomes out of the bushes and through the trees to the rise that looked down on the meadow and the makeshift army besieging Sterling Silver. Cooking fires were dying out, and people were stretched out on the grass sleeping. Sentries from Kallendbor’s war party still patrolled the shores of the lake, keeping close watch over the island castle, and small knots of men still drank and joked restlessly, but for the most part everyone had settled in for the night. Abernathy searched the meadow, particularly along the shoreline, for some sign of Horris Kew or the black-cloaked stranger. There was none to be found. Not even Kallendbor was visible.

“What do we do now?” Fillip asked anxiously.

“Yes, what?” Sot echoed.

Abernathy wasn’t sure. He licked his nose worriedly.

Somehow he had to find Horris Kew. But how was he supposed to do that given his present circumstances? To begin with, he looked like a dog, and without any clothes he had little hope of disguising the fact. If he went down into the camp like this, he would be spotted in a moment.

Reluctantly, he turned to the Gnomes. “Do you think you could sneak down there and find the man I showed you from the castle, the one with the bird?”

“The man with the mind’s eye crystals,” Fillip announced brightly.

“That one,” Sot declared.

Abernathy had hoped they might focus on something besides the crystals. It was Ben Holiday he was after, and G’home Gnomes were easily distracted from what mattered in favor of what interested. It was Abernathy’s biggest fear that they would get sidetracked. They just couldn’t seem to help themselves.

“We can find him,” Fillip said.

“Easily,” Sot said.

Abernathy sighed. “All right, give it a try. But just find him, then come right back and tell me where he is. So I can tell you my plan. Do not do anything else. Do not let him know you are there. Can you remember that?”

“Yes, we can remember,” Fillip said, nodding.

“Easily,” Sot repeated.

They slipped away into the darkness and disappeared from view. We can remember, they had promised. Abernathy wished he could be sure.

Not too far away, back somewhat from the rabble that crowded the meadow, Horris Kew and Biggar sat conversing quietly in the dark. Horris was crouched within the shadows of an old spreading maple that edged out from the forest behind, coming halfway down the slope like a scout. Biggar was perched on the trunk of a tree that had once been the maple’s companion but had fallen victim to lightning. Horris sat with his back against the maple, the trunk of the other tree close by his legs where they stretched out before him like tent poles.

“You are a coward, Horris,” the bird sneered. “A pathetic, craven coward. I would never have thought it of you.”

“I am a realist, Biggar.” Horris was having none of this coward business. “I know when I am in over my head, and this is definitely one of those times.”

It was a bitter admission, but not an unfamiliar one. Sooner or later Horris Kew always found himself in over his head in his machinations. Why these things never worked out as he intended, why they always went wrong somewhere along the way, was a mystery that continued to baffle him. But it was clear that this time, just as all the other times before, things had gone dangerously haywire.